


Kitty Cornered

by AnonEhouse



Category: Avengers (Comic), Captain America (2011), Captain America (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Reincarnation, Tony kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hands up, everyone who likes Tony as a kitten stories.</p><p>Thought so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translation [ available here.](https://ficbook.net/readfic/2242503)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Steve wasn't exactly starving in a garret. WPA poster work kept him fed and his landlady kept 'accidentally' making a little too much dinner. He'd given up telling her that no amount of pasta or frank and beans casserole was going to make a bit of difference to his physique. It was easier, and kinder, to accept the neatly wrapped waxed-paper packets that he really didn't want.

He sneaked the latest offering out of the tenement and across the street to an alley near a park, unwrapping it and laying it down on the sidewalk. He moved back a few feet and flipped his sketchpad to a clean page. He justified the waste of feeding strays by using them as models. The army liked lean, mean dogs on their posters. 

He sighed as a skinny black kitten, totally unsuited to scaring the enemy, skittered between garbage cans and began gulping down hot dog pieces, but he didn't have the heart to chase it away. He started sketching it. Maybe he could sell it for a greeting card. It did have pretty blue eyes. He could just... fatten it up a bit, add a ribbon. Maybe an adoring child with a ball of yarn.

He was concentrating on his drawing when a dog rushed past him. It was a mean, snarling, muscular mongrel, just the kind the army liked. It went for the poor little kitten. Steve yelled, "Hey! Cut that out!" as they rolled over and over, spitting and snarling while fur tufts went every which way. He picked up a stick. "You big bully!" He threw the stick, hitting the dog on the side with possibly enough force to knock a flea or two off.

The combatants separated for an instant. The kitten lashed its tail, fur bristled to make it look larger, but it still would have easily fit in a cigar box. The dog backed up a step, warily looking at Steve who was getting another stick. The way was clear for the kitten to escape and Steve relaxed slightly.

"PSSTT!" the kitten hissed as it ran straight up the dog's back, landed on its head and began clawing with all four legs at once. The dog screamed and whirled around in a circle, tail between its legs, before trying to escape. The kitten jumped off and watched the dog run down the street, kiyi-ing shrilly. 

Steve picked up his sketchpad. "Maybe a cat's not such a bad subject for the army."

The kitten blinked at him, limped back over to the strewn food and resumed eating hot dog bits while he sketched. When its stomach was visibly rounded it stopped eating and began licking one paw. Steve moved closer to it, expecting it to run. It paused in its washing, pink tongue hanging out, paw still lifted, and growled at him, the menacing sound ending in something like a breathless squeak. He laughed and the kitten's ears flattened, blue eyes doing their best to look menacing. 

"Oh, you're a tough guy, all right. Tough little Tony, that's you." Steve was unutterably charmed. He moved suddenly, and grabbed the kitten by the scruff of the neck. It went instinctively limp and he held it up to give it a good look over. "How about you come home with me. Just until your leg's better?" He stuffed the kitten into his coat pocket and buttoned it shut.

There was an indignant 'mew!' followed by a few seconds scrabbling about. Then the kitten began purring. Steve laughed, and headed back to his apartment. His mother had told him that black cats were lucky in England. Now that he had a mascot, maybe he'd go back and have another try at enlisting.

 


	2. Cat's out of the bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Kitty gets recruited, sort of.

Mrs. Donegan was sweeping the front steps when Steve returned. "Steve!" she called out, heartily. 

Tony squeaked and jumped in Steve's pocket, obviously startled by the sudden noise.

Mrs. Donegan's eyes narrowed. "What's that? You know the rules. No pets! They're dirty and they attract vermin!" She folded her arms across her impressive bosom. Steve had often thought that Mrs. Donegan would make a great war poster. She was pretty scary sometimes.

He sighed and unbuttoned his pocket, hauling Tony out by the scruff of his neck. "I know, but his leg is hurt. I thought I could keep him for a few days until he gets better." Steve had a brilliant idea. "You know, I think I saw a mouse down in the basement the other day. A mouser wouldn't be a pet."

Mrs. Donegan looked Tony up and down and started laughing. "A mouser! That little scrap couldn't catch a fly."

"He just needs feeding up, that's all," Steve said defensively. "Just because he's small doesn't mean he's worthless."

"Oh." Mrs. Donegan's eyes softened. "Well... I suppose he can stay for a while." She smiled at Steve. "How much trouble can he be?"

***

"Tony?" Steve looked around his room once more before leaving. So far, in the week since he'd brought Tony home he'd found the kitten hiding inside his box spring, behind the drawers in his dresser, under a round rag rug, and on top of a closet door. And that was only in his own room. Tony was an escape artist, probably because he was so small and black and quiet that he sneaked out without Steve realizing it. He had no idea how Tony managed some of his other tricks, such as the kitten pawprints in the coal dust in the _padlocked_ basement and on the _ceiling_ above the couch in the drawing room. He'd also found a dead mouse outside his door three mornings running. Admittedly they were very small mice, but Mrs. Donegan had been pleased and rewarded Tony with a saucer of top cream for each one.

Maybe Tony was just sleeping somewhere, he tended to sleep heavily when he finished drinking. Steve put on his coat and locked his door. There was a recruiting station set up at the Expo, he'd heard. With all the people who went through there, they might be too rushed for a full medical examination and Steve was doing pretty good today. He didn't have a cold, and he wasn't wheezing. Lots of people are thin these days, that's no reason to turn him down.

***

"TONY!" Steve wasn't so much embarrassed by having a kitten leap out of his overcoat pocket (said overcoat had been hanging on a coat rack while Steve was down to his boxers and having his back thumped by an examiner) as he was afraid someone would step on Tony. Tony was fast, but there were an awful lot of people busy looking at exhibits, not at the ground. So Steve ran, flat out, heart pounding and lungs burning, dodging among shrieking people, apologizing all the while, and feeling his face burn nearly as badly as his lungs as he rudely ran around in his _underpants_ in public, in front of women and children and the whole world. Tony finally stopped, having encountered a mirror and been unable to resist fluffing up and threatening the kitten on the other side of the glass.

Steve dove, caught Tony one-handed and pulled him in to his chest. Tony looked up at him, blue-eyed and innocent, licked his thumb with a raspy pink tongue and purred as his fur smoothed out. "You." Steve leaned against the mirror to catch his breath. "Have no common sense, Tony."

"Who are you? Really?"

Steve looked up at the man who'd spoken to him and blushed. The man had a stack of recruitment forms in his hand. Steve recognized the false names on several of them. "Steve Rogers." He straightened. At least they were in a secluded alcove for this further embarrassment.

"It's a crime to falsify recruitment information," the man said mildly.

"I know, sir." Steve didn't bother with excuses. He'd known it was illegal and had done it with open eyes. He petted Tony, holding the kitten against his chest.

"My name is Dr. Erskine. I'm looking for a volunteer for something very dangerous, that might help the war effort."

Steve smiled, feeling hopeful. "You've found one."

Dr. Erskine returned his smile. "Come with me." He paused to look at Tony. "Is that yours?"

"Yeah. Tony's my... good luck charm."

"Well, we can always use more good luck."

Tony licked his whiskers and purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Dedicated to  
> of  
> who commented: _OMG OMG Thats so cute. Oh jeezes you cant leave it there!_


	3. Cat Amongst the Pigeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitten Enlistment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 dedicated to Tina because her comment led to it.

Somehow, Tony always managed to be in the middle of everything, despite Steve's best efforts. When Steve crawled under the razor wire in boot camp, Tony was at the other end, batting at the strands. When he went on a forced march, Tony followed until he fell behind, mewing indignantly, only to turn up later riding in the drill sergeant's jeep, perched jauntily on the man's shoulders.

The day someone shouted 'GRENADE' and Steve dove on top of it, there was a warm, furry body squirming under his belly, kicking and biting viciously at the 'pineapple'. Tony jumped into the middle of poker games, and stole the ace. Tony sneaked into the kitchen and shamelessly used the power of his big blue eyes to get the cream meant for the general's coffee. 

And at night, when Steve lay aching in bed, surrounded by strange sounds, and wondered if perhaps he was wasting everyone's time and should have been content to draw posters for the war, a small warmth would settle on his stomach and vibrate with an intensity all out of proportion to its size, and he'd fall asleep with one hand curled protectively around Tony.

When Dr. Erskine got permission to use Steve as a test subject, Tony came along. Steve did make sure they weren't experimenting on kittens. He had no idea what a 'Perfect Specimen Kitten' would be, but he suspected the world wasn't ready for an enhanced Tony. They wanted to run a lot of 'before' tests on Steve while they were finalizing the process, so Tony had a week to insinuate himself into laboratory life, which he did with the same total fearlessness as he did everything else.

Tony liked to march along the tops of tables, counters, lab cots, and electrical equipment. Steve suspected it wasn't just to avoid being stepped on, but also because he liked having a better view. The kitten had a particular affection for machinery, which worried Steve a bit, but Tony seemed mostly to like to watch, and to listen to the hum of electricity. Once he did sit on a switch and refuse to move, but Howard Stark had come over, checked the settings, and gone pale before pulling the plug and starting to rewire the whole console. After that, Howard called Tony his 'anti-gremlin' and brought small treats and handmade toys for the kitten whenever Steve was hooked up to testing equipment and couldn't keep Tony out of trouble.

The night before they put Steve into the machine, he'd gone to Howard with Tony riding on his shoulder. "Mr. Stark?"

"Mr. Rogers?" Howard looked up from a notebook full of things Steve didn't understand, but then he was pretty sure no one except Howard understood them.

"I was hoping... if something goes wrong... would you mind looking after Tony? I'd like to say he won't be any trouble, but you already know him."

Howard smiled. "Nothing will go wrong. But I'll look after Tony when you're busy." Howard patted Steve on the non-kitten shoulder.

 

Steve told everyone he was fine. Sure, he'd just been transformed into a 'super-soldier', seen a kind and wise man slaughtered before his eyes, run through the streets of New York after the murderer and... seen a man die because he caught him. That was what soldiers were supposed to do, but no one had told him what soldiers were supposed to feel about it. Everyone else was dealing with their own reactions to the day's events, and he certainly wasn't going to destroy Dr. Erskine's memory by wondering aloud if he really was the success they thought they'd got. Inside, he was still Steve Rogers. He went to his room and laid down on his bed, trying not to catch a glimpse of himself in the shaving mirror he'd set above a basin. He closed his eyes and sighed. He was glad he'd get a chance to serve his country, but who was he?

The blanket beneath him moved slightly, in a series of rhythmic tugs. Steve smiled, amused despite everything that had happened, as a small, determined body climbed on top of his chest. He opened his eyes. Tony was sitting on his chest, whiskers wide-spread and twitching. One neat paw stretched out, and then the other. Tony padded up the length of his body, his tiny feet cool against Steve's skin. Tony stopped at Steve's collarbone, extended his neck and sniffed, audibly sniffed, Steve's mouth. Then he butted his head against Steve's chin, turned around and curled up on Steve's chest, kneaded his tiny paws for a moment, and fell asleep.

"Tony." Steve's eyes felt hot. It was good to have someone recognize him.


	4. Cat's Cradle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes a cat a long time to find its way home.

Howard looked down at his newborn son's blue eyes, and was stirred by a memory he'd thought long buried. No one else had wanted a spoiled, blue-eyed tomcat when Captain America disappeared, so Howard had kept his promise and taken Tony back to America with him after the war. He and Howard had got along all right, both carefree bachelors, both missing a friend who'd never return. Tony had gone out in style one day, protecting a litter of coal-black kittens from a mastiff. Howard had buried him in the garden with one of his own war medals, and if the gardener thought he was stupid for crying over a cat, let him think what he liked.

"How about the name Tony?" he asked Maria. "I like the sound of it."

Maria shook her head. "I thought we were going to call him Edward?"

"Edward... Eddie... that's more of a middle name, don't you think?" Howard touched the baby's palm, and was rewarded with a tight grip.

"Tony sounds like a hairdresser."

"Anthony, then."

Maria sighed. "All right, Anthony Edward."

***

Steve woke up in a world where everything and everyone he knew was gone. He didn't allow himself to dwell on the people he'd lost, but he couldn't help thinking about Tony who always waited for him to return. Always ran to him, purring, and curled up on his chest, and made even the worst nights bearable. He hoped someone had cared for him.

Mostly he was kept too busy to brood. When Iron Man had asked him to join the Avengers, he'd felt a certain obligation because it had been Iron Man and his friends who'd pulled Steve out of the ice, and after all, they were trying to protect America. Even if it didn't feel like the America he knew, and he felt very little connection to it, protecting America was what he _did_. Then he'd met Howard Stark's son, and that helped. There was an ease, a familiarity to Tony Stark, that Steve wasn't entirely able to pin down to his satisfaction. Tony had some of Howard's mannerisms, and the same cocky grin and eloquent eyebrows, but his sometimes manic energy and the mischief in his blue eyes... well, maybe he got those qualities from his mother.

Iron Man's frequent recklessness was a concern, but since he'd founded the Avengers, and got his employer to fund them, Steve couldn't really take him to task over it. And he didn't think it'd do any good. He supposed whatever drove him to become a bodyguard in the first place made him have less concern for his own life than a normal person would. Steve had known men like that during the war. They didn't usually talk about their demons. They usually died doing something heroic, but then, there had been a war on, you really weren't counting on going home. Iron Man was home, and Steve felt it a pity that the man seemed to have no more connection to it than Steve did, spending much of his time either working with the Avengers or off on some task for Tony.

And then they came up against a villain with the ability to strip people bare. And Tony Stark _was_ Iron Man. Steve waited until the mission had resolved itself and they returned to the mansion and got dressed, for Tony to explain himself, why he'd played such a ridiculous, and no doubt difficult, game for so long. But Tony had emerged from his room in a spotless tuxedo, and just given him a sideways glance, a flash of blue eyes, and a shine of white teeth bared in a mocking grin. Steve just _knew_ he was going to vanish in a series of parties and playboy games until the Avengers decided that he was such a shallow, frivolous person that the secret identity had been just another joke.

"Tony." Steve sighed and gave in to impulse. Scoldings hadn't worked with the other Tony, either. He reached out and grabbed Tony by the back of the neck. Tony froze and his eyes went wide. Steve shook him once and released him. "I'm going to watch a movie." Then Steve turned and went into the living room. He turned on the television and settled on the couch, feeling sad. He had thought that he was friends with both Iron Man and Tony Stark. He kept the volume down on the television, wanting to hear when Tony left. The front door was heavy, and made a fairly solid noise when it shut.

After a few minutes he heard sounds, but not what he expected. The padding of bare feet on the polished floor came closer, hesitantly. Steve looked up. Tony had changed into pajamas, elegant black silk ones, but still not something you'd wear on a night out on the town. "I thought I might stay in tonight."

"Oh. This looks like a good movie." Steve shifted slightly, indicating the free space on the couch.

"Thanks." Tony sat next to him.

Steve kept facing the television, but he was concentrating on Tony. Tony looked tired, but then, it must be tiring trying to be two people. After a few more minutes Tony was leaning back on the couch. Steve didn't move or say anything. Tony let out a sigh, and slumped a bit toward Steve. Steve casually put his arm out, creating a space that Tony slipped into quite naturally.

Tony blinked at Steve a few times. Steve pretended to be totally engrossed in the movie. He shifted again, and Tony slipped down further, until his head was resting against Steve's chest. Tony sniffed sleepily and rubbed his head against Steve's chest. "Tony," Steve said softly, and stroked Tony's hair.

Tony made a wordless humming sound, quite a pleasant noise that vibrated against Steve's chest. Then his eyes slid shut. "Steve," he said softly.

**Author's Note:**

> The following is a real WPA poster. Steve had to make the eyes yellow for contrast 
> 
>  
> 
> [ Join the Tanks, Treat 'em Rough](http://lcweb2.loc.gov/service/pnp/cph/3g10000/3g10000/3g10100/3g10141r.jpg)


End file.
